


it takes a village (but there's only you and me)

by cicak



Series: Coronavirus Decameron (WIP Amnesty 2020) [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/F, LHS rides again, Lesbian Han Solo, Lesbian Parenting, Pregnancy, Space Royalty, lesbian han solo fucks it up again, not so much a planned pregnancy as a strategised pregnancy, parthanogenesis, what's in a name?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/pseuds/cicak
Summary: The message “I really think that they’re going to go with Twobacca” from an “anonymous Palace source” was picked up by the media and blown completely out of proportion, to the point where bets are suspended pending investigation of insider trading.In which Han Solo is very bad at picking names for her unborn daughter, bad at being a galactic princess-consort (what's new) but also does not deserve any of this shit.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Series: Coronavirus Decameron (WIP Amnesty 2020) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666177
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	it takes a village (but there's only you and me)

It takes them an embarrassing amount of time to decide on a name.

From the moment the droid beeped, and then the doctor told them that yes, her majesty was pregnant, that the procedure had worked, that they hadn’t slipped some sperm in there and _their_ little girl, half each of them, was chilling in Leia’s uterus and making herself at home, Han hadn’t been entirely sure it was possible. They’d explained the science multiple times, and Han had seen the vids, done the reading, attended lectures given by the best baby-making doctors in the galaxy, but even though she believed that they believed it was possible, until that moment, she hadn’t been sure it wasn’t all a big con.

The procedure was expensive, extremely, extremely expensive, but that’s another thing that had changed; the money was no option when it came to continuing House Organa. Han thought about all the girls back home who held their breath as the date on the calendar passed marked with a red dot, thought, not for the first time, of all the lines of Alderaani war orphans she saw every week as their patron, thought of the waste of it, but held her tongue.

The thing that stuck with her was how the first few days of gestation the little blob was made of separate Leia-cells and Han-cells, that divided among themselves, and then sometime around day five, it all changed, and the cells just blended together into this new person’s cells. Bloop, and then there was no separation. She was her own person from then on, and it was that moment that Han became utterly terrified.

The Alderani people didn’t help; they were obsessed with the contents of Leia’s womb, obsessed with their new princess even more than they had been with Han. There was a magazine dedicated entirely to the gestation of the baby that was full of such rampant lies that it was one of the more enjoyable pieces of fiction Han had read in years. She had a subscription, of course, and amused herself by sending in anonymous tips whenever they struck her. “I saw Queen Leia eating Kandahar beets; I am so worried that the baby might turn out to be purple” had led to a very informative mythbusting feature on nutrition in pregnancy that Han had genuinely learned something from, but it was the naming competition that really captured her imagination. The message “I really think that they’re going to go with Twobacca” from an “anonymous Palace source” was picked up by the media and blown completely out of proportion, to the point where bets are suspended pending investigation of insider trading.

Han swore to stop then; she’d never top that one.

In reality, as the weeks draw on, Han is impatient, probably more impatient than Leia. Han wants this to be over, for the baby to be real and in her arms and to prove to everyone that she’s just a normal human infant and not the saviour of the core worlds. That for all she’s probably going to be strong in the force due to her heritage, she’s still going to be half Corellian trash, and perhaps that will be enough to ground her.

Han hopes that her daughter will inherit all the best parts of each of them, and be kind, courageous, creative, light-sided and witty enough to use her sarcasm as a weapon, and not the worst; petty, vindictive, opportunistic, flighty and someone who uses sarcasm as a weapon to hurt others.

They move out of their apartment up in the spires and into what is, in all reality, a palace fit for a queen, but Han insists on calling it the ranch and buys a rancher’s hat to wear basically at all times when walking the endless gardens. To her annoyance, the long-lens holographers love it, and the hat flies off the shelves, helped when Landeau is snapped wearing one too.

Leia consigns her to the spare bedroom for crimes against fashion the first time Han wore it at a rakish angle in their bedroom, but officially the strife between them is because Leia hates being pregnant with the passion of a thousand suns, hates being hot and uncomfortable and huge, hates the sickness and the indigestion and the pain. She gets a new wardrobe of dresses that to Han look identical to her old floaty ones, and complains, complains, and fights, mostly with Han.

“You can’t blame me for this,” Han says during one of their more memorable fights. “It was your idea. I just wanted to adopt twenty war orphans and give them ridiculous Alderani nouns for names. Carinor Organa” she yelled in a cut-glass accent “Come right here and give your mother a hug!”

“That means toaster,” Leia says, furious.

“ _I know_ ”, Han replies, gleefully. “It’s _perfect_.”

“Well, while we’re at it, we should talk about that issue,” Leia says. “The name is important. For our actual daughter, not the imaginary brood you’d obviously rather be having.”

“Hey! Hey? Hey!” Han says, hands up in surrender. “I am _so_ on board with this, this baby, this pregnancy, you, all of this. I’ll carry the spare, once you’ve popped out the heir, absolutely. So right, yeah, let’s talk about it. Names. What does Leia mean?” Han babbles.

Leia sighs “The name doesn’t have to mean something specifically, it doesn't need to be translated. It has to have meaning, some famous Alderaani poet or mythical figure or a grandparent. As long as they’re dead. My birth mother named me, and they found an ancestor they could hang it off when my parents took me as their own. Our baby though, she has to have a name that means something. It’s important.”

Han opens her mouth -

“Not Twobacca, I know that was you”.

She raises a finger - “Or Lhan, or Heia, or Lan-dos, or Millie Falconia, or Solo, or Girlname. Girlname, Han? Were you drunk that day?”

“Well if you don’t want my input”, Han said, mock-sullenly.

“I don’t,” Leia says. “Actually, it’s been decided. We’re calling her Alderaan.”

“Alderaan?!” Han shrieks. “ALDERAAN?”

“It’s fitting,” Leia says, primly, stroking her bulging stomach. “Honouring her homeworld.”

The fury that sparks through Han’s mind is white hot. “No. That little girl has enough on her tiny shoulders as it is, as the heir to your magnificent majesty, but to be named after an entire planet of ghosts? Give the girl a break, Princess, pick one ghost, name her after that poor soul. Six billion ghosts is too many. I won’t allow it.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this.” Leia says, dangerously. “The council already approved it. She’s going to be Alderaan Organa. End of discussion.”

It was not the end of the discussion. It was not the end of it by half. It was ugly. Han was surprised by the depth of feeling - not because the name sucked, which it did, but because once again, it was _decided_ , without her, and that baby may have all her own cells now, but the cells that went into the little cellular blender were half-Han’s, and that had to mean something. They were married; they were both responsible, this baby was supposed to be _theirs_.

“The grand vizier and the council get a say, but I don’t?” she asked, cold and hard, and Leia confirmed that yes, because Han couldn’t be trusted, all her little stunts confirmed _that_ , and Han recoiled as if she had been slapped, because that was personal, that wasn’t public, which meant that Leia had told them, told them on purpose to get her own way.

The tabloids shifted their reporting away from endless speculation about the baby to endless speculation about Princess-Consort Han Organa’s state of mind, the fragility of their relationship, whether they’d still be together when the baby even arrived. Han wished she could call in a tip this time, tell them that all was fine, that their highnesses were still besotted, still excited for their family, that all of this was just vicious tabloid conjecture instead of sharp, cold truth.

Luke comes to visit, and from the first moment it seems like he’s trying his hardest to use the force to bring them back together. Dinner is fraught and formal. Han says little, and Leia goes to bed early, which leaves Han alone with Luke to sit up until late, putting away a good bottle of wine in the sullen silence that befalls inlaws the galaxy over.

“Thing’s will change when the baby comes,” Luke says, eventually.

“Did the force tell you that?” Han sighs.

“No. I can sense her though. Your daughter will be strong, I can tell already. She’s going to be very powerful.”

“Ugh, gross, stop looking at your sister’s womb” Han jokes, and Luke blushes bright red, under all that mystical bullshit still that farm boy who can’t really believe women like Han exist. 

“Seriously,” Luke says, “You should already be thinking about her education in the force. She needs to have a set of good influences.”

“If that’s an offer of babysitting, we’ll bite your other hand off” Han jokes, but it's obviously not what Luke wanted to hear, because his face goes hard and painfully familiar.

“I can see why Leia thinks this is a problem.” Luke says, cryptically, and Han just scoffs, downs her drink and goes to bed without pressing on that particular bruise, that Leia will talk to her brother, but not to her wife.

The next morning they all take breakfast together, and even though it's just as uncomfortable as it was at dinner the night before, Luke seems more resolute that he’s going to fix something, even if not them.

“So, Leia, have you decided on a name?” Luke says, with the look of a man who knows that the waters are full of sharks, but has decided he has to go for a swim regardless.

Leia puts down her cutlery. “Did _she_ put you up to this?”

Luke shakes his head. “No! Why?”

Leia sighs. “We’re calling her Alderaan.”

“And by we, she means herself and the twelve men of the council she’s apparently married behind my back. I think it’s a terrible idea, but what do I matter, I’m only her _wife_ , only the baby’s _other mother_ …” Han snipes back, rage bubbling up again even after so many weeks.

“I agree with Han, Leia, it’s -”,

“You can stop there,” Han says, hastily, getting glares from Luke and Leia both.

“It’s a big name for a tiny baby.” Luke says, diplomatically.

“She won’t be a tiny baby for long." Leia insists. "She’ll spend most of her life an adult, and a princess, and then a queen.”

“So what, she’ll be Queen Alderaan of Alderaan? Isn’t that a bit...weird?”

Somehow, that seemed to stop Leia in her tracks.

Obviously sensing he's getting somewhere, Luke presses on. “And shouldn’t both her parents agree on her name? Come on, Leia, you know this is unfair on Han. You should stop fighting and find some name you can agree on.” He brings out a piece of paper. “I’ve got some ideas, if you want, but if it was up to me, I’d name her after the person who brought you together,” he says.

“Or how about the person who drove us apart?” Han sniped. They both ignored her.

“Alderaani culture doesn’t allow the naming of children after people still alive,” Leia says, smiling sweetly, “so no, I, sorry, We, can't name her after you.”

“No,” Luke says. “You should name her after Ben. Kenobi is a type of flower that grows on all the core worlds, so it also fits into Corellian naming traditions”, and well, wasn’t that an unexpected gesture. Han’s name, her old name, because she changed it when she got married, was old Corellian for ‘cherished’, and it wasn’t until Luke mentioned it that she’d even thought that actually, she liked that tradition quite a lot.

“I hate it,” Han says, still stubborn. “Floral names are lame, and the old man never liked me.”

“I hate it too. I never even properly met him.” Leia says, but there are cracks there, and she meets Han’s eyes and there’s a glimmer of a smile for the first time in a long time.

Luke beams, “Well at least you both agree.”

He has a whole list. Leia nixes naming her after their birth mother (Padme, which Han actually likes, but it’s too much of a Naboo name, it’d be a minor scandal), and Luke actually claims to like Millie until Leia explains Han’s cleverness in small words, and even though they still couldn’t agree enough to like anything, it was a relief that they at least were talking, again, and when Luke leaves that evening, Han chances her luck, and Leia lets her come back to their bed.

The baby is born at first light on new year’s day; a blessing that would have been more symbolic if it hadn’t been scheduled precisely to be so. Their hastily called truce was still holding, and so Han sat in the operating theatre, squeezing Leia’s hand as their daughter was delivered unto them; ten fingers, ten toes, full head of hair and furious; force help her, she was perfect..

As the surgeons stitched Leia back up, neither really noticed the other people, the entire Alderaani council and the holographers and the judicial witnesses because when she was laid between them Han’s heart felt like it was going to burst with the sheer enormity of the love that she felt right then and there for this tiny child, who was hers, hers and Leia’s, forever.

Miraculously, despite the sleepless nights and the fussing, the truce remained; the baby needed no other name than ‘the baby’. Who else could they be talking about? The baby needed feeding, the baby was up all night, the baby was strong with the force, the baby was the glue holding them together.

Threepio ended up being the one who put his golden foot down. “The baby must be registered within six weeks of birth”, he panicked at Han as she gazed into the baby’s eyes for a solid hour one golden afternoon. “It has been five weeks and five days!”

“Has it really?” Han said, quietly. “Gosh. It was nice, baby, wasn’t it, your mummies being friends?”

They went down to the registration bureau in the early afternoon, as late as protocol and their protocol droid allowed. It was an unseasonably warm day. Flowers were blooming early this year, and Han bent to pick one as she wandered ahead of Leia and the stroller-droid, and rubbed the petals between her fingers releasing their strong scent. She had no idea of their name, but did have a bad feeling about something, the way she did right before she dropped out of hyperspeed into the unknown.

The bureau was in a low, vaguely ugly building, and the clerk who directed them didn’t seem to know who they were, which was nice. The registrar did, however, and shuffled them into a small room away from prying eyes, and dug out a special gold pen for the occasion. “I’ve never registered royalty before,” he says, sidelong to Han, eyeing the baby like she might do something unexpected. “Should I bow?”

Han rolled her eyes. “She’s just a baby, don’t worry about it.”

Leia held the baby as Han filled out the form with their details, the baby’s details, everything except the name.

Impulsively, Han took the bloom out of her pocket and turned to the registrar. “Excuse me, do you know what kind of flower this is?” even though she knew the answer, somehow, before he even said it.

They shared a look, and Leia shrugged. “It’s the only name we’ve ever agreed on,” she sighed, and jiggled the baby on her hip. “At least my brother will be pleased.”

“Ugh, don’t make me change my mind” Han said, but put pen to paper all the same.

* * *

The Council of Alderaan is pleased to announce that Princess Leia Organa and her consort, Princess Han Organa, have been delivered of a daughter on the 1st of the month of Pash in the old Alderaan calendar, in the year BoE 4. The child has been named Princess Kenobi Organa, in line with both Alderaani and Corellian naming traditions.

The First Daughter of Alderaan will be presented to her people at her 100 day celebration.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked to podfic my Lesbian Han Solo series, which led me to rereading the series for the first time in ages, which reminded me how much I love Lesbian Han Solo, accidental galactic princess and actual Corellian space trash, which led to me writing this story that I've had outlined in google keep for years. 
> 
> Han and Ben not being Organas never made sense to me, so yeah, fuck that. 
> 
> Anyway, eventually I will probably write the story of Kenobi Organa, Princess of Alderaan, and how she falls to the dark side, and probably more about LHS and Leia's terrible marriage, but seeing as I still haven't seen TROS...that might take a while. If you ever want to talk about Lesbian Han Solo, I'm on tumblr at [cicaklah](http://cicaklah.tumblr.com), where I am both furloughed and coming to the end of PhD Hell as of the time I'm writing this.


End file.
